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Reyes breathed in and out, forced himself to focus through the rage and bitterness eating at him. There was no time for recriminations. For the sake of his father, for the sake of his people, he had to put personal feelings aside.
First, he would salvage the economy.
Then he would deal with Jasmine Nichols.
* * *
Jasmine pushed away the tray of tea and sandwiches. The thought of eating or even taking the smallest sip of tea made her stomach churn. She took a deep breath, folded her hands in her lap and silently prayed for strength.
The room she’d been brought to was comfortable enough. Sumptuous sofas were grouped in one corner, centred round a low antique coffee table. A conference table took up a larger space and, mounted on the far end of the wall, a large screen TV and a camera.
The red light blinked, telling her she was being observed. The memory of Reyes’s cold rage slammed into her mind. Unable to sit, she jumped up. She’d been shown into this room two hours ago. Luckily, her nausea had abated but her shock and anxiety had risen in direct proportion as the realisation of what she’d walked into ate at her.
She paced, twisting her hands together. Reyes was angry and disappointed with her. No doubt about that.
She’d foolishly thought she, a junior mediator in a small-sized firm, could help rectify the situation she’d caused. Make amends for what she’d done...
Jasmine’s heart lurched, a feeling of helplessness sliding over her. Reyes was probably laughing his head off at her audacity. And for all she knew, he could’ve already left London. The newspaper article had mentioned he was visiting several European countries to garner economic support for Santo Sierra.
If he’d truly left her to be dealt with to the fullest extent of the law, she would probably be prosecuted for treason and thrown in a Santo Sierran jail.
Her legs threatened to give way, but she forced herself to walk towards the camera. Swallowing, she looked up at the black globe.
‘Can I speak to His Highness, please? I won’t take up much of his time, I promise. I just... I need five minutes. Please...’
The light blinked at her.
Feeling foolish, she whirled about and paced some more. Another hour passed. Then another.
Jasmine was ready to climb the walls when the door swung open. Breath stalling, she rushed towards it. Only to stop when confronted by yet another bodyguard bearing a tray.
It held several tapas dishes, fragrant rice and a tall carafe of pomegranate juice.
‘Your lunch,’ the guard said in heavily accented English.
As violent as the nausea had been, the hunger cloying through her now, when the appetising smells hit her nostrils, was equally vicious. But she forced herself to shake her head. ‘No. I won’t eat until I speak to His Highness.’
The thickset guard blinked. Pressing home her advantage just in case she was being watched on camera, she pushed the tray away, sat on the far end of the sofa, and crossed her legs.
The door shut behind the guard. Hearing the lock turn, her insides congealed. Another half an hour passed in excruciating slowness before the handle turned again.
Reyes stood in the doorway.
The shock of seeing him again slammed into her. But she took advantage of the wider distance between them to observe him.
His face had grown haggard since Rio; perhaps it was the short designer beard he sported, his hair a little longer, shaggier. But his body was just as masculine and breathtaking as before, or even more so with the added angle of danger thrown in.
Or she could be going out of her mind, dwelling on superficial things when there was so much at stake.
‘You wanted to see me.’ He stepped into the room and the door shut behind him.
Now that he was here, Jasmine wasn’t sure where to start. I’m sorry seemed so very inadequate.
So she nodded, struggling to hide the guilt eating her up inside. ‘Yes. I think I can help with your...situation.’
He sucked in a sharp breath. His fingers opened and closed in a gesture of restrained control. ‘Help! You don’t think you’ve helped enough?’ he snarled.
‘Please, I’m trying to make things right any way I can. Please tell me what I can do and I’ll do it, Reyes—’
His eyes turned to dark pools of ice. ‘You will address me as Your Highness. Addressing me by my first name was a one-time privilege. One you abused with the coarsest atrocity. And Miss Nichols?’
‘Yes?’
‘I suggest you eat. You won’t be enjoying luxuries such as three-course meals for very much longer.’
